


Like Father, Like Daughter

by Quoth_the_Raven_Nevermore_Nevermore



Category: Merlin (TV), Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Uther Pendragon was a dick, and I think that he would regret his hate a little, because of what it did to Morgana, but he loved his children even though he didn't really know how to love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:30:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quoth_the_Raven_Nevermore_Nevermore/pseuds/Quoth_the_Raven_Nevermore_Nevermore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uther watched her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Father, Like Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my Merlin 200 prompt challenge.   
> Prompt: hate  
> Number: 6/200

Uther watched her.

He couldn't stop her. Couldn't do anything to help her. His penance, the ultimate punishment for someone with his temperate, to be able to see, but never touch the world that he'd left behind.

And his oldest…..

He'd made so many mistakes with her. Starting with not claiming her as his own from the start, but Gorlois – he'd loved her, he'd seen him with her and he couldn't have taken her from him. Morgana had been the apple of his eye, an active child who was always smiling, and then Uther hadn't sent reinforcements soon enough and Gorlois – he was gone, and Morgana was parentless.

And he had a decision to make.

He remembered her, that day, she'd been left in the estate with a nanny for the duration of Gorlois's deployment, and had managed to give the woman the slip, she'd been sitting on the lake shore, her skirts spread out around her – sharpening a stick for a doll with blonde curls dressed in royal blue and gold, the Le Fay colors.

"Morgana?"

The child startled and whirled, black curls swinging, she stared at him out of a face as pale as snow with bright green eyes.

"Papa – my Papa, he isn't coming back, is he?"

She'd been ten and he couldn't leave her.

So he'd taken her.

Morgana had adjusted to castle life quickly and he'd watched her bloom, and as she aged, sword fighting in delicate lace dresses, he'd seen so much of her mother in her. Vivienne had been a childhood friend, a pale dark beauty, a curious child who had always been fond of dark alleys and black cats.

But she'd been kind and strong willed, and she shared Morgana's ideas of right and wrong and sometimes he saw another in Morgana's place as he sometimes saw a reflection of the past in Arthur's hair and eyes.

Morgana's idea of right and wrong. He thinks that's where he went wrong with her, this child that wanted everything to be fair and just, who fiercely opposed his laws - laws he was serving penance for.

(Blood stains don't wash away just because you didn't commit the act with your own hands).

And she fought him every step of the way, and yet, beyond the flashy jewels and gauzy dresses he gave her, besides the fact they fought nearly daily, he'd cared what happened to her, had loved her, as he had thought she did him.

She was his first born and whether he could acknowledge her or not, he'd looked at her with pride on his lips and wonder in his eyes, because look how big she's gotten, how smart, how mature, how beautiful, when yesterday it seemed she was a child barely on the cusp of adulthood, but look at her now! Look at her!

But then -

He doesn't know if he can blame the magic anymore. He thinks fear, he thinks loneliness, and he thinks grief is what really changed her. His daughter was a sorcerer and he didn't know what he would do if he'd have discovered this before her coup before she'd left and was safe, far away.

But he knows one thing, he could never have killed her. Not Morgana. Never her.

But she'd lived with fear that she'd be killed, and she'd let it turn into hate. She was very like her father in this way. Fear is a powerful motivator, if you want an animal to run fast, you give it something to fear.

A cruel truth, but a true one all the same.

And now, his beautiful daughter thirsted for blood, looking for justice for those he's killed and those that were still dying, magic was feared, he'd sought to make it that way, and oh, how he regretted it. If only because if she had nothing to fear then she would perhaps still be the compassionate woman playing tag and stick wars with the towns children.

And she was feared, Morgana the tyrant, Morgana The Last High Priestess, Morgana the seer, Morgana the mad, Morgana the witch, Morgana the brutal. Morgana the sorceress.

Not as she was, but as she is now - that is how she will be remembered. All the good she did forgotten like it had meant nothing to nobody. Like a sandcastle killed by the crushing orcas of the ocean waves. And there is a tragedy there. And he blames himself, he blames his own hate for what has become of her.

The darling girl he once met on the lakeshore is no more and he can see a reflection of himself in her steely eyes and he thinks that yes, she'd been right. Magic didn't make her who she is, he did.


End file.
